Windyweary

BALLAD

O hae ye been to Windyweary,

That stands on the blastet knowe?

Whar the snell Jaunar' winds blaw dreary,

And never a tree a grow.

The deil is seen i' the gloamin'.

Fire streamin' frae ilka e'e;

The blood on his horned heid foamin',

And red as the holly berrie.

Wil-cat and tod and hoodie-craw,

And maukins frae owre the hill,

Chitterin' sit upon the wa'

To perform the foul fiend's will.

The kirk-yaird dirls wi' fearfu' soounds,

O' sabbin' and dolefu' maens;

When heid-stanes owre he madly boounds,

Wi' unearthly eerie granes.

The loch is fu' o' brimstaine stoure,

And the hoary moss and hag;

And eldricht music fills the moor,

That gars the bur-thrissel wag.

The girnin' brownies rin aboot,

Wi' their bleezin' cantrips braw;

While yellow deid-lichts glancin' shoot

At'our the auld castle-wa'.

Ae nicht to gain the thicket cot,

And win to bride Maysie's bower,

Sair warstlin' wi' the hailstane shot,

And thro' the cauld blandin' shower.

The bridegroom and the bridegroom's man

Had gotten within the door;

When screichin' loud, bride Maysie ran,

Swoonin' awa on the fllor.

A blude-red cross was on her broo,

Her hair like pouthrey snaw;

And four black piets round her flew -

Then chanticleer he did craw.

Two rattons bauld, ran out an' in,

And ane o' them had a face

Like the fair bride's, when she did preen

On her breist, her waddin' lace.

The ither had a squintin' e'e

That lookit intil his nose;

And proodly on his whiskered bree,

Was set a bonnie red rose.

Maysie, that ance was kind an' crouse,

Wad curse baith the yirds and kine;

And carried stanes as big's the house,

That's brackin' her apron string.

And noo she lies beside the linn,

In a smooring' witches' hole;

And winds sing thro' the whirlin' whin,

"Gude Lord, send rest to her soul."

This is the fifth of Mrs Smieton's Scots Poems and Ballads